


The Gift

by VendelynSilverhawk



Series: Inquisitor Yvain Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VendelynSilverhawk/pseuds/VendelynSilverhawk
Summary: Inquisitor Yvain Trevelyan and Commander Cullen Rutherford finally marry, and get the peace and quiet they long for.Just some fluffy domestic stuff.





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> No smut here, ladies and gents! Just tooth-rotting adorable post-canon.

 

The lodge is a gift from her family, ancient but restored and given new purpose by the wayward daughter-turned-hero and her ex-addict husband. That isn't the way her grandmother puts it, of course- she is Andraste's Chosen and Cullen is the Esteemed Commander of the Inquisition's army, yet Yvain can see in her narrowed eyes and hear in her honeyed tone what she really thinks of her granddaughter’s choice in men. Cullen is not a noble, worse he is a Fereldan dog-lord (anyone who breathes that insult with Yvain in earshot quickly learns how fierce the previously overlooked rogue is) who failed at being a Templar and almost failed at being a Commander because of a pesky little word and its nasty implications: addiction.

No-one knows the specifics, of course, but Templar use of lyrium isn't a secret and it's obvious that Cullen no longer uses it. His hands twitch sometimes on bad days- Grandmother Trevelyan notes the way his dinner fork shakes during their second night in Ostwick- and nightmares don't always stay in his head- her cousin Lyda, barely fifteen, has to be coaxed wide-eyed back to bed as Yvain promises that Uncle Cullen is just fine, sweetie- and his mouth tightens noticeably whenever Templars and their bravery is mentioned- which is often, thanks to her Uncle Herbert.

Cullen is a wreck of a man on his bad days, the perfect man on his good days, and a healthy, recovering man on every day in-between. Yvain could care less that her family thinks she should have married any number of the lords or royalty vying for the hand of the Inquisitor- there's a reason she and Cullen were married in Honleath with his family.

Still, when her parents offer them the old three-story lodge Yvain knows the gift is their fumbling way of saying "We don't like your husband but we still want you around." It helps that in the coming days and weeks as Yvain and Cullen take breaks from the Inquisition where they can, they decorate it in Fereldan style, with thick fur rugs and mabari carvings and swords on the walls. Should her family ever visit they will find only one Trevelyan crest in the whole house, and the trappings of the Free Marches nobility very subtle indeed.

On their first night there Cullen sweeps her into his arms and shoulders his way through the door. For a moment Yvain is so surprised by the show of strength- she is technically only two inches shorter than him, and not without her fair share of muscle- that she can do nothing but gape up at him. Then he laughs, smile warm and near as the summer sun- too often his smiles are remote, cold as daylight in midwinter, cutting off of snow- and Yvain reaches to kiss the small scar on his upper lip.

"Where'd my gentle mabari go?" she murmurs against his lips. Their breath is hot together. Her body is hot beneath her thick clothes and voluminous cloak, meant to ward off a chill neither of them feels any longer.

This time his laugh is low and fills his whole chest, and she presses closer to feel the happiness contained there.

"Is my dashing Commander hiding?" Clever fingers run around the back of his neck as her other hand smoothed over his cheek, her thumb brushing over his lips. The laughter still hums between them but it is joined by something more.

"Cullen?" she smiles when he lowers her gently to the ground, as though he might break her even though they know he could not. She is strong and eternal as steel, as the land around them. Even all the fury of an ancient would-be God was not enough to send her to the Maker's side.

Rather, it is Cullen she worries about breaking, and Cullen who worries about what will happen if the world finally finds a way to leave her still and empty.

Enough morbid thoughts, Yvain tells herself. Enough. There is no room in my life for unwanted sorrow.

Cullen has moved to the foot of the stairs, stands with one foot on the first step and with his hand outstretched. A smile plays around his lips, this one almost coy.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan," he says formally. Bows minutely at the waist. "May I have the honor of accompanying you to your rooms?"

Yvain desperately holds back a grin as she curtsies and places her palm on top of his.

"How could I resist such a polite request?" she says with false wonder. Cullen's strong fingers wrap around her own- they feel so confident she could almost forget the times when they shake, or hesitate- and he pulls her towards him. They are nose-to-nose on the stairs. He exhales.

This house has been empty and cold for so long. It is time to give it some heart.

Some _heat_.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Cullen breathes. The playful game between them evaporates like morning mist. They are stripped bare before each other in all the ways that matter- but then, the scars and shakes and shame are nothing new. They have seen all of this before. They have learned to take each other as they are, and love every inch of each other.

"You were born _you_ ," Yvain murmurs. Then she cradles his face in her hands and draws him forward and-

Gently, sweetly, slowly, kisses him.

Pulls away.

Stares into Amber-brown eyes as steady and devoted as the mountains to the sky.

"Commander Cullen," she says evenly, though her heart is anything but, "I think we should find my rooms now."

"Agreed." They seal it with a kiss and he moves to sweep her up again, but Yvain has different ideas.

So he carries her piggy-back up the stairs, and she kisses his neck and hair and cheeks, and they find the master bedroom, and ten months later Noah is born in the Skyhold infirmary and Yvain sends her mother and father a thank you gift.


End file.
